Young Wolf
by I am but two days old
Summary: A year has passed since the death of his mother. Now a budding young man, Atreus travels to Beacon Academy in the hopes of following in his mother's footsteps and protecting others. Yet unbeknownst to him, those who lived in an age of gods are quick to take notice of his true nature. They know a god has come to Remnant. A God of War.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own God of War or RWBY. Both are properties of Santa Monica studios and RoosterTeeth respectively.**

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"Pretend to be everything you are not: teacher, husband, _father_. But there is one unavoidable truth you will never escape: You _cannot_ change. You will always be...a _monster_." –Athena

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_Young Wolf_

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Volume 1:  
"The Wolf"

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**PROLOGUE – A Wolf in the Snowy Forest**

The cold winter in the isle was harsh, even in its infancy. Around this time of year, the villagers would take their axes and bows and go out into the forest, chopping down trees for firewood and hunting down venison for provisions. Fruit could last longer, but travel and delivery would be delayed by a great margin.

Already, two inches of snow has piled on to the forest floor. Few leaves remained on the branches, and the water had begun to freeze. The air was frigid, enough so that one could see their breath. Many animals had begun to go into hibernation. The only things prattling about would be deer and those that hunted the deer, such as foxes, wolves and the like. The birds were surprisingly scarce as well, no doubt hiding away inside the trees for warmth.

A few miles away from the village, an area within the forest was deathly still. Silence hanged over the area like a blanket. Squirrels rested leisurely atop the branches. A single deer drank from a waterfall in peace, unconcerned with its surroundings. Unknown to it, however, it was being stalked by a hunter. It resided in the shadows, patiently stalking its pray. Hiding in wait for the right moment. There it sat in wait in the thicket of bushes, its red eyes peering out from the shade. It dared not make a sound, lest it attract attention.

Seconds went by before the deer, having drank its fill, turned away. The snow crunched softly beneath its hooves as it left. It would return to its fellows and migrate further, hoping to find shelter before the cold winter finally settled. Once it did, they would have to be careful about where they traveled.

At this moment, the hunter pounced. A shadow leaped out from the thicket, colliding with the deer and ending its life in an instant. Its fangs sank into its neck and pushed down with all the force it could muster, breaking the deer's neck and ceasing any struggle it could muster. Its body went limp before it crashed into the snow.

The hunter was a wolf, its fur matching the color of the snow beneath it. It was far bigger than the average wolf, however. It also stood on its hind legs, claws looking capable of ripping apart whatever it could touch. Ivory spikes protruded out from its back, a mask settled over its face.

This was one of the many predators that humanity regularly battles. One of the Creatures of Grimm, known to stalk the forests and undefended roads of the Kingdoms of Mistral and Vale. A Beowolf.

Ordinarily, the Creatures of Grimm would be colored black, matching the terrifying nature they embodied. However, the Grimm in the isles were of another, more rare sort. Their rarity could be considered equal to an Elder Grimm – their older siblings that lived for countless years and gained intelligence in the process. Their long years, hunting and fighting in the unforgiving colds had led them to adapt. They were resilient to the elements. They had learned to become one with the snow. To hide in wait before delivering a killing blow.

You were far more likely to see an Albino Grimm here in the isles than you were elsewhere. They were also slightly stronger than the typical Grimm, though not to the point where a veteran Huntsman would have trouble killing it. The Beowolves were also known to hunt in packs, their actions and instincts perfectly mimicking a wolf.

However, this hunter was alone. It had been separated from the pack in search of a meal. It satiated its hunger, tearing and swallowing huge chunks of tender red meat from its fresh kill. It had to eat quickly, however. Though the winter was still settling in the isles, frost would soon cake the carcass and make it too tough to eat. It also needed to return to its pack. After all, the humans would be straying from their settlement to hunt. Provided a Huntsman was not present, they could hunt them to their leisure. They would make a better meal than this deer.

The white Beowolf greedily took another chunk of meat, swallowing it and letting the juices flow down its mouth before it went in to take another pause. It stopped when a strange scent entered into its nostrils. It smelled smoke and metal, and something unfamiliar to it. It could not recognize the unfamiliar scent, but it easily remembered what metal and smoke were like.

It was possible a human hunter had wandered close by. The hunter debated whether to hunt this smell or finish its meal and return to its pack. It glanced down at the deer, then snarled as it turned away in favor of better pray.

There was no better excitement than the thrill of the hunt.

The hunter pursued the unfamiliar smell, tracking it and going deeper into the forest. It eventually came to a stop, slowly its pace. It stilled and blended with the snow, eyeing its new target.

The weapon on their back confirmed its suspicions. It was a bow, or rather a pair of blades joined together to form a bow, as the ends bore sharpened edges. The quarry was a young one, barely reaching the age of adulthood. Their hair was copper red, with two tufts of hair sticking out from on top of their head. No, not tufts. Ears. The quarry had beast's blood in him. A wolf, perhaps. A thin coat with fur lining, odd markings etched into their right hand. Faintly, similar markings were on the back of their neck. Dark trousers with a bag strapped to their left leg. Male.

The hunter licked its fangs, a low growl rumbling from its throat.

The quarry was in the process of skinning an animal. A small rabbit, from the look of it. A small knife cut into the stomach, then pulled to create a cut. From there, the young prey began to slice off the fur.

It would be an easy kill. And a fine meal.

Tension built in its legs. It waited. Waiting to see if they noticed. Finally, the Albino Beowolf sprung into action, leaping out from its hiding place and maw opened to snap its quarry's neck.

It should have been easy. A swift bite to kill in an instant. But the quarry was smarter than it looked. At the least second, it let itself hit the snow on its back and let the hunter smack into the tree it was in front of. It smashed straight through it, the thin tower of wood falling to the white floor beneath them. Dazed by the sudden impact, the Beowolf growled and shook its head before it aimed a glare at its quarry, only to snarl in confusion.

Its prey was gone. It had vanished. It was quick to flee. Useless. The hunter would continue to hunt the prey. It raised its head and sniffed the air, tracking its smell. It's eyes widened in alarm when it turned its head.

Just in time for its mark to sever its head, bow now twin blades that easily cut through flesh and bone. Its head was sent flying, soaring through the air before touching the snow. The body stilled before it collapsed into a heap, no longer able to move. Seconds later, its body began to break down into wisps of smoke, leaving no trace of the proud hunter of human and animal alike.

The young hunter breathed a small sigh, blue eyes not leaving the corpse as if watching to see if it would come alive. Once it saw that it was dead for good, he lowered his blades but did not loosen his grip. Instead, he chose to survey his surroundings. The air had become quiet, but something lingered. He could feel it. A growing sense of malicious intent, slowly approaching.

Not far away, he saw snow shifting. No, not snow. Grimm. Their furs blended together with the snow like excellent camouflage. It made him wonder how many villagers fell prey to these monsters because of that.

The tension didn't leave him. He took count of the number of beasts heading his way. It was most likely the pack, having been drawn by the commotion.

"_Keep your blades steady. Remain focused. Do not become distracted."_ a voice reminded him. A face of ash with red eyes stared at him as he spoke. _"Feet spaced, hips square. Keep track of your foe. When they come within range, strike the first blow. Do not relent."_

He spaced his feet apart, the snow shifting beneath him. His hands went to his wrists, twisting the tiny rotors attached to the wristbands he wore before giving his blades a swipe, cutting through the air. Satisfied with the small change in weight, he prepared himself.

"_Do not grow arrogant. Plan your next strike carefully."_ the man continued to speak. _"Your blades are meant to attack multiple foes. Wield your bow when you face a singular enemy. Keep track of them. Never lose sight of them. Never expose your back to them. That is a weakness."_

Yellow eyes appeared. White bipedal beasts appeared, standing on hind legs when they saw him. They knew instantly that he had killed one of their own. In anger, they howled towards the sky. They were declaring their intent to avenge their brother.

"_Anger is a weapon. A powerful weapon. But it must be wielded wisely. You must temper it. _Control _it. Never led it guide you. The moment it does, you will fall. Do you understand, Atreus?"_

He let out another breath, visible in the cold air. His pupils shrunk and the hunter was gone. In his place was a warrior.

"_Yes, father."_

A Spartan.

Atreus readied his blades. The wolves had come, and they wanted his flesh.

The Beowolf at the head of the pack reached him first. It leaped at him so it could pin him down and kill him with ease. Atreus side-stepped, letting the creature tumble in the snow. Another Beowolf went for a more simple approach and tried to swipe his head off with its claws. He used the momentum of his previous moment to spin, evading the claw as he bent low and let his blades follow him. The edge tore through flesh and cut open a path. Without stopping the motion, he continued his spin and sliced off its arm before pushing it away with a roundhouse kick to its jaw, knocking on its back.

He stepped away, his blades prepared for another encounter. The Beowolf that attempted the first blow lunged to remove the blades from his hands. Atreus evaded and thrusted one of his blades into its torso.

The third Beowolf had seen that the direct approach was failing and went at killing him with another approach. It grabbed hold of the fallen tree that its dead brother had smashed into and hoisted it up, claws digging into its trunk. It roared and swung at the young hunter with its new implement.

Atreus' eyes widened and moved. He jumped over the swing, foot planted on the tree in mid-swing and pushed himself higher up before he pulled on something attached to his wristband. The Beowolf with one of his swords lodged in its body was suddenly pulled up, following after Atreus.

There was a thin string of light attached to the bottom of the blades' hilts, connecting to the rotors on his wristbands. The rotors spun and licked as they swallowed up the string the more the Beowolf grew closer, then extended again when Atreus threw the helpless Grimm at its comrade.

Wolves collided and thrashed about on each other, grip on the tree forgotten. When he landed back on the ground, he pulled on the string again, calling the blade back to his side and dragging the thrashing wolves with them. Now close, he jammed the blade into one of the other Beowolf's head. It missed the brain, but as a consolation the Grimm's eyes was now butchered. He gripped the handle of the blade still in the second Beowolf's body and yanked it out, flipping it into a reverse grip, then brought it down on the Beowolf's skull, sinking it as far as he could before he pulled it straight down, slicing its entire head in half.

Atreus kicked at its fresh corpse, pushing it away before dealing with the other Grimm, now suddenly enraged. It took him by surprise, headbutting him. The blow caused him to reel back, dazed and left open for the Beowolf to tackle him to the ground. It snapped its jaws at him, trying to bite off a chunk of his throat. He elbowed it and pushed it to the side, grabbing hold of the hilt of his blade, then proceeded to carve it straight down the side of its face, leaving behind quite the nasty scar.

This served to distract it long enough for him to push it off and roll to his feet, deciding to try for another approach. He let go of one of his blades and held the thin chain, proceeding to spin it around. Once it reached maximum speed, he threw it straight at the Albino Grimm and struck it dead in the face, piercing into its brain.

Before it could break down and dissipate, Atreus threw the corpse at the Grimm who's arm had been severed earlier. It fell to the ground when the corpse struck it dead on, once more falling to the snow. He took a look at his surroundings and released a third breath.

"_Though your enemies may come few in number, never underestimate them."_ his father's voice came to him again. _"Especially if they are Beowolves. They hunt in a pack. They trust in one another. Each integral to their continued survival. In other lands, the young ones may be bumbling pups, but the ones here in the isles… They are survivors. They will not relent if you slay one of them."_

His fingers wrapped around the hilts. The rotors clicked and ceased to function. The glowing string of chains dispersed and vanished. He pushed the hilts together and twisted. A click came from the joined blades as they extended and grew longer, more thin. The glowing chain reappeared, this time joined by the tips of the sharp edges of the newly-formed bow. The hilts also extended, becoming the center of the bow. In the middle, a circular disc formed in between the hilts. His finger touched the disc and pulled it back, pulling back the string until it became taut.

"_Aura can only last for so long. You have much of it, but do not make a habit of using it. Huntsmen rely too much on it, just as they do Semblances. Rely on your instincts. Trust in your own abilities. Do not allow your senses to be dulled. Let the power that defends you become a weapon instead."_

His eyes developed a glowing hue as his finger pulled the bowstring. A thin white line with a sharpened tip, mimicking an arrow, formed the further he pulled the string back.

Atreus released his breath, and let his arrow fly. It struck the dazed Beowolf and lodged itself into the skull, killing it instantly. Its body fell back into the snow, where it would begin to dissolve.

Without lessening his grip, Atreus looked about his surroundings again. There did not appear to be any Grimm in sight. The air was silent once again, save for the soft chirps of birds, the rushing waterfall close by and the crunching of snow beneath his feet. Everything was still.

Finally, the tension left him. The glow in his eyes faded.

Before he left the forest in favor of collecting the rabbit and returning home, something snapped into existence behind him. A furious howl reached his eyes. The last Beowolf had remained hidden all this time, waiting for the right opportunity to kill him when he least expected it. It finally had its chance when Atreus let down his guard.

The copper-haired boy was caught off-guard. He was about to repel the beast, the sharp edges of his bow making an excellent deterrent, but something else reached the beast. The air grew colder without warning, and a spinning blade of ice shot out of the air and into the Albino Grimm's skull, slicing off a good chunk of its head and killing it in an instant. The spinning icy blade slammed into the tree behind the young hunter.

The Grimm, caught by the blow, was knocked off course and instead landed next to Atreus. Its body then began to break down to join the rest of its pack as wisps of snow-white smoke. Bewildered, the young hunter looked at the blade that saved his life.

It was an ax. A beautifully crafted one at that, with a wooden handle encased in pieces of gold. The pommel was twisted and curved, a mixture of gold and black intertwined together with two holes at either side. At the top, where the blade of the ax rested, a smaller sharp edge rested. The blade of the ax possessed a silver edge, complimenting the golden curve beneath it. Strange markings decorated the flat of the blade's side. At the hilt of the ax sat two icy-blue gemstones.

What was truly shocking about this masterpiece, however, was that the entire blade of the ax was coated in a sheet of ice. Ice that soon broke apart and fell into the snow, as if having served its purpose. The dissolving corpse of the Beowolf at his feet also had ice on its body, small and large pieces of flakes around the massive gash in its head. There was also a small patch of ice growing around the area where the ax had been lodged.

It was as if that, whatever its blade touched, the ax brought with it an unforgiving chill.

Atreus knew of its owners. Its original wielder had passed away, and entrusted to her significant other. He turned to where the ax had come flying. There, emerging from the treeline, clad in few garments that offered no protection against the unforgiving winter, was his father.

A small shudder ran down his spin as he felt his father's eyes bore into him. He could not discern whether it was disappointment, shame or anger in those eyes. Perhaps it was all three at once or a mix of both.

His father stopped a few meters away from him. He continued to look upon him, even as he raised his hand. The ax shook for a moment, then returned to his grasp. Unlike Atreus' blades, which required machinery to return to his side, there were no strings or chains that brought the ax back to his hand.

Atreus would not lie, he had always wondered his such a feat was possible. At first, when he witnessed it, he had thought that it had been his mother's Semblance that brought the ax back to her whenever she had thrown it. But seeing his father do so as well, when he had no Semblance or even aura to help fight, he began to question whether or not it was actually the ax itself being capable of such a feat. If so, how was it possible? There was no technological involvement with the ax whatsoever. A "classic" as a villager once said.

An uncomfortable silence reigned between the two. Eventually, it was broken by the father. "You let your guard down." Atreus winced, but didn't look away. "You reacted, yes. But it would have taken a bite out of your shoulder before your bow could hit it."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry. Be better." his father grunted. He looked about the area and took note of the dissolving Grimm corpses. "How many?"

"Four or five." Atreus replied. "I killed one that strayed. The rest found me afterwards."

"There has been a pack around that same number wandering close to the village." his father said. "They killed three hunters. Including Samson." The copper-haired Faunus grimaced. He had been the one to find Samson's corpse. It had been a grizzling sight. Even now, it still haunted him. A sense of relief swelled when he realized he had avenged the old man. Perhaps now his family could rest in peace. "I imagine the village will be much calmer in the next couple days. Have you finished your hunt?"

"I need to finish skinning the rabbit." Atreus answered. "Other than that, I have two more in my bag."

His father nodded. "Good. Finish your work, then we return."

"Yes, sir."

"Atreus."

"Yes?"

"...you fought well."

Atreus' eyes widened at that. Faintly, beneath that beard, he could see a ghost of a smile making its way to his father's lips. It was hardly noticeable, but it was still there.

He was stunned to silence, but smiled to himself as he turned back to the forgotten rabbit, which by now was no doubt collecting snowfall.

Today had been a good day.

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"No beast is more savage than man when possessed with power answerable to his rage." –Plutarch

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**This is a little something to tide over the people anxiously waiting for me to update Something Wicked This Way Comes. I must remind people that the chapters are meant to be as long as the chapters that are in the books, if slightly less. And chapters in Overlord tend to go on for a third of the book. Naturally, that means they will be quite long. Both in word count, and in length.**

**This story has been in my repitore for a while. The only reason I had not chosen to pursue writing it is mainly because I did not know much about the lore of the God of War games, aside from its protagonist being the world's angriest man.**

**On the subject of Something Wicked, however, I can say that the chapter is coming soon. I simply don't know when it will be finished, but it is coming. Possibly next month if I'm pushing it.**

**Please be patient.**


	2. Remnant Era: Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own God of War or RWBY. Both are properties of Santa Monica studios and RoosterTeeth respectively.**

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"Grief in the snow  
The winter of woe  
Has come here to judge and bereave me"  
–Gavin Dunne

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_Young Wolf_

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Remnant Era:  
Chapter 1

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**CHAPTER 1 – A Wolf Grooming his Fangs**

Winter had long since settled when it was time to build the funeral pyre. A small band of townsfolk, led by the pale man that had arrived to the isles many years ago, trekked into the dense forest that lay past the territory of both Grimm and animal alike. They wisely trailed behind him and kept their distance, for the man walked with solemn sadness. His eyes were cold and distant, yet he stared forward past the horizon as if he was looking at something else. The only one that had not stayed behind was the young boy at his side.

"Are you sure this is the correct part of the forest?"

Atreus nodded. "The trees here are thicker and older than near the town."

Kratos said nothing.

He did not know how long it had been since his found his way to this strange place. Only that the world was not one he recognized. The language was different, the people bearing features unfamiliar to him, and the moon a stranger. He was a stranger in a very strange land, yet he found a certain peace in these odd lands. The people gave him the space he needed, so long as he did nothing to interfere with them.

All except for one. A remarkable woman who made him feel something for the first time in ages.

It had only been a few days since her passing. Kratos hadn't spoken much since and hardly ever interacted with the townsfolk, only when necessary. The only reason they had come was because the boy had told the mayor that his mother had requested she be cremated, and her ashes spread across the cliff overlooking the ocean. The portly man had spoken with Kratos before they had left, offering all the aid they could to help him.

He accepted it without a struggle. He didn't have the energy. Were it not for the fact that the boy was here, he would have collapsed and let himself fall to sleep for who knows how long. It was only discipline and sheer force of will that made him continue forward. There were things to do. Now was not the time to let his grief rule him. He was a better man than that.

Atreus stopped. His hand touched one of the trees close to him. "This one looks good." He turned to his father. "Do you…need help?"

Kratos gently pushed him aside, grabbing hold of the ax his wife left behind. "Stay back, boy."

Atreus nodded and stepped away. The pale man gripped his ax with both hands, fingers coiling around the grip. He sucked in a breath, the frigid air invading his lungs. His hands trembled slightly. He reared the ax back, and swung.

The blade cut its way through the bark and into the tree's center. He pulled it back out, and swung again.

And again.

And again.

Each time he swung the ax, a memory played out in his head. The day he first met the woman who had become the second love of his life. The woman who had pushed her way through the violence and ash that made up his existence and pulled out what remained of a good man. The woman who had given him a reason to live. Each time a memory played out, the heavier the ax became and the hotter his chest grew. Something was bubbling up to the surface, rapidly growing in size.

His knuckles turned white as a roar filled with grief and anger ripped from his throat. The final swing cut straight through the tree. It groaned as it tilted, then fell to the ground with an earth-trembling thud. The bird nestled in the trees nearby scattered into the air, startled by the sound. The animals nearby ran off in the opposite direction in fear of being hunted.

Atreus looked at his father with pitiful eyes, wondering what he could do to help ease the pain. He reached to touch him, but a rough hand gripped his shoulder. "Leave him be."

Atreus looked behind him, finding the hag that served as the town's doctor. "But…"

"He's letting out his anger. Let him vent." the hag advised. "Come now. Let's bring the trees back with us. They need to be chopped."

The copper-haired pup looked like he wished to argue, but another look at his father, at his stony face and burning eyes, made him retreat. He nodded and walked over to the fallen tree, a few townsfolk following behind him. They cut away at the twigs and branches before the butcher and blacksmith went over to either end of the tree, hoisting its massive body up onto their shoulder. To help lighten the load, Atreus and a few others went underneath the tree and put it on their shoulders. They trailed back to the town, leaving only their footprints as proof of their presence in the snow.

Behind them, Kratos continued to swing his ax, cutting down another tree that Atreus had pointed out to him.

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By the time the tree had been halfway cut apart, Kratos had returned with the second tree hoist over his shoulder. Some of the townsfolk stared in wonder, once again reminded of how strong the man was. He set the tree down next to the one being cut apart and looked about the area. The pyre was being set, logs meant to help light the fire and keep the body steady, all prepared by some of the local housewives.

The only one missing was the boy.

"If you're looking for Atreus, he's inside." Kratos turned, finding a portly man in a pinstripe suit and top hat approaching. The mayor's eyes were red and misty, traces of frost on his mustache and beard. "He's saying his final goodbyes. I never would have thought this day would come. If anything, I believed I'd be the one who would die before anyone else."

Kratos closed his eyes. "As did I."

"Hmph. Cold as always, just like the rest of the isle." The mayor snorted, smile hidden well underneath his bush. He looked at the pale-skinned man in concern. "Will you be alright? Raising the boy by yourself…"

He didn't have an answer to that. He glanced at the small shed where his wife's body lay waiting for him. Ready to leave him behind and join the ghosts. Atreus was well on his path of becoming a budding young man. He was well into the age where he'd become an acceptable recruit for the Spartans, and he was strong. The boy knew how to hunt and defend himself. He had not killed a man yet, but if he wished to pursue the path his mother walked, he would have to soon.

Kratos and his wife spent equal time with Atreus, but compared to her dealing with the boy he didn't have much of a role. All he did was teach him how to fight. How to take hits, how to repel a foe, how to throw a punch, etc. The boy never spoke of his problems to him, that duty belonged to his mother. In truth, he never knew how to interact with the boy. He was afraid he would say one thing, one wrong thing, and he would look at him with contempt.

He had long since forgotten what it meant to be a parent, nor was he ready to become one again. He had unconsciously distanced himself from the boy, treating him like he would a boy coming of age, but like all fathers there was some affection showing through. On the few occasions they had bonded, Kratos had taught the boy his own fighting style when the blacksmith made him his first weapon. Weapons that hauntingly reminded him of the accursed swords hiding underneath the floorboards of his home.

Kratos sighed deeply and shook his head before he stepped away from the mayor, entering the building. It was dark, lit only by the numerous candles surrounding a body wrapped in cloth, decorated in crisp golden leafs and flowers. All collected by the children who his wife took care of when she wasn't busy hunting, doing housework or tending to Atreus. The boy himself was lighting the candles.

"_Se, der ser jeg moren min…_" Atreus whispered in the language that his mother had taught him. The language of his homeland. "_Se, der ser jeg faren min…_" He lit the last candle before he rested his head against her body. The last contact he would ever have with her. "_Se, der roper de til meg. Se, der roper de til meg. So, der roper de til meg. Se, der roper de til meg. Se, der roper de til meg."_

Kratos wondered what sort of expression Atreus was making. Faintly, he could hear the sound of sniffling. Any other Spartan would have scolded him for showing weakness, but Kratos shared in his feelings.

He was not ready to lead a life without her.

"Boy." His voice became tight. Atreus looked up, eyes misty. "It is time."

The copper-haired boy nodded and stepped away, allowing him to approach. His footsteps fell like stones, floorboards creaking. He rested his hand against his wife's body, wondering if this was maybe some sort of practical joke before he closed his eyes. She felt so cold. Colder than the winter that enveloped the isles.

He slipped his burly arms underneath her, gently pulling her up.

"_Finn veien hjem. Du er fri._" Kratos whispered softly, speaking the same tongue she did, albeit more roughly.

The two walked out of the building. The townsfolk had all gathered, faces somber and wet. All were garbed in fur robes and black attire. Kratos looked at them all, the people who treated him warily and welcomed him as one of their own. The people who had shown him kindness alongside his wife for the first time in a very long time. The old him would have dismissed them entirely, and at first he tried to push them away. Still, they persisted until, like her, they broke through his exterior and found a way through.

They were as much her family as he was hers.

Kratos approached the pyre, Atreus following close behind him. He set her down atop the gathered piles of wooden oak. The boy knelt down, grabbing one of the gathered rocks surrounding the pyre in a ring and took hold of one of the blades on his back, tapping the blade against its surface. After a few tries, the sparks were lit. The wood sizzled and cracked before they produced the flames. He stood up and backed away. Together, the town of Lapis watched the flames grow, slowly but surely wrapping around the corpse of Kratos' wife and the greatest hunter in the town.

Atreus looked up at his father, finding his expression even but no less somber. His eyes were distant, as if staring at the fire reminded him of something. He glanced at his large hands, and after a moment, wrapped his own around them. The action surprised Kratos enough to stare at the boy for a moment, then the stony face softened.

The mayor wept as his tears trailed down his puffy cheeks. At his side, his six-year-old daughter sobbed and cried into his pants leg alongside her brother, older by two years. He produced a flask from the inside of his coat and twisted off the cap, taking a long swig and gulping its contents before pulling it away from his lips.

"Farewell, dearest Faye. May you find peace and return to your family of old, wherever they may be."

Atreus' ears drooped. "Goodbye, mother…"

The town watched the funeral until only the ashes remained. Once the burnt remains of wood had cooled and the ashes were gathered, poured into a leather bag, Faye's last wish was granted as Atreus and Kratos spread them across the wind at the cliff overlooking the sea. The ashes danced through the air, swirling together with the crystal snowflakes that had just begun to form.

As if giving the people of Lapis one last gift…

* * *

_One Year Later…_

The harsh winter had ceased its grip on the isles. The snow had begun to melt and the ice covering the lakes broke apart. Animals that had been hiding away and enduring the cold now sprung freely into the open fields, basking in the warm sunlight. The birds sang songs as they soared across the sky, with nary a cloud above. The sun bestowed a weak warmth upon the people beneath its gaze as they went about their daily lives, from the butcher cleaving open scores of meat to sell and the baker producing fresh loafs of bread.

Atreus, now at the budding age of 17, strode through the streets of Lapis. His hair had grown slightly longer and his eyes sharper. His winter garments had been discarded in favor of a gray short-sleeved jacket over a red tank top and faded pants. Around his wrists were crimson red bracers, with the rotors connecting to his scimitars located in the center of the wrist. A crimson red pauldron also sat on his left shoulder, trailing down his bicep but stopping just short of the elbow.

"Atreus!" the butcher's wife called out upon seeing the copper-haired boy. "Heading off to the Station?"

Atreus nodded. "Don't want to be late, after all."

"Right, right. Well, don't let me keep you. And good luck!"

He smiled and nodded, thanking her for her kind words.

Today was a special day for him, as it was his first real step towards following in the footsteps of his mother.

Today was the day he was heading to Beacon Academy.

* * *

In the world of Remnant, monstrous creatures known as the Creatures of Grimm roamed the lands, terrorizing the people and pushing them closer to the brink. In order to combat these monsters, an order of warriors called the "Huntsman" was established – the first line of defense against the things that went bump in the night.

The exact date in which Huntsman first came into being isn't exactly known. If there were, they had been lost following the purge of history caused by the conflicts of Mistral and Mantle during the Great War several decades ago. Only vague remains and scrambled bits of memory remained in those events, and those who could recall their history were scarce, with some having lost their sound minds with age.

There was one thing that was agreed upon by many people in regards to the existence of the Huntsman; they were the sword and shield meant to defend the people against the Grimm. During the Great War, there were nowhere near as many Huntsmen as there were today. As a result, there were a number of casualties. Thus, the creation of the Huntsmen Academies were required, as decreed by the King of Vale following the victory of Vale and Vacuo over Mistral and Mantle.

There were four Academies: Beacon, Atlas, Shade and Haven. Beacon Academy was located in Vale, and was largely considered to be the better academies of the four for numerous reasons.

Atlas Academy, while also a Huntsman Academy, was also a Military Academy. In times of war and in dire straits, Huntsmen were required to aid in the defense of the Kingdom, regardless of allegiance. In essence, they were soldiers. Atlas Academy had merged with its military, thus Huntsman were not just trained to fight Grimm, but were trained to fight as soldiers first and foremost. Disciplined and strong-minded.

Shade Academy was considered the worst of the four, namely on account of where it was situated. Vacuo was a harsh environment to live in, with little in way of government and rules. In fact, the only law that existed on that continent of dust and rock was the academy itself, and even then there were few rules that prevented conflicts and arguments from breaking out. Granted, anyone who could survive there ended up being made of grit, character and capable of facing any form of adversity, they weren't prone to following orders.

Haven Academy was only a step above Shade, having a government and a ruling body to keep the unruly in line, but had two factors working against it. The first was that Mistral was the major center of the criminal underground, so naturally there were more than a few people with shady backgrounds wandering around inside and outside its halls. There was also a frightening amount of people in Haven that could be bought out with money. In short, security could be compromised. The second major point was that Faunus discrimination was incredibly high. In fact, discrimination was supposedly even worse than in Atlas, a feat that wasn't easily achieved. Conflicts didn't occur occasionally, but whenever they did they tended to explode out of proportion and resulted in a boom of negativity, which led to Grimm attacks.

Beacon Academy was considered the best of the four because it not only shared a healthy balance of education and combat training, but was situated in one of the more stable Kingdoms. Granted, there was the occasional crime spree, Faunus hate crime and Grimm attack, but otherwise it was peaceful and allowed students the most opportunities. On top of that, Beacon Academy also functioned as a standard academic institution for those who weren't pursuing a career in fighting monsters.

Typically, there were two ways a person could attend a Huntsman Academy. The first was to have been enrolled in a Combat School for a minimum of three years and graduate with the required grades. After which, they would receive a letter of recommendation from the Headmaster of the Academy to participate in Initiation – the exam to decide whether or not you would stay at the school and train to become a Huntsman or be sent home with your pride wounded. Alternatively, for those who lacked the education of those enrolled in Combat Schools, they could participate in a Practical Exam to see whether or not they had the necessarily skills and academic ability required to enroll before being offered a letter of recommendation.

Atreus was among the latter group. Having participated in the Practical Exam some odd months ago, he had received the letter two weeks ago from the Headmaster of Beacon Academy. To say that the young pup was thrilled would be an understatement, as he practically lived on the stories of heroes thanks to his mother and the housewives of Lapis.

Faye had told him many stories about heroes, and to some extent she herself was very well-regarded. Before she settled in Lapis, she had traveled across the Kingdoms, helping people whenever she could. There were whispers back in the day about a woman carrying an ax with a frigid touch, cutting down bandit and Grimm alike. Kratos himself once told Atreus that she was a fierce warrior, and that was saying a lot since the pup had seen him in action against any Grimm that wandered too close to the town.

He could still vividly recall the time his father had torn a Beowolf's jaw off its person, along with its chest, with naught but his bare hands.

When his thoughts reached Kratos, Atreus couldn't help but smile wryly.

The year of his mother's passing had, admittedly, been a trying one. At times, it seemed as if the man looked cold and uncaring, but the boy knew better. Behind that stony face was a grieving man, though he showed it differently than others. He was not an overly emotional man, aside from the occasional bursts of anger. The two had their tense moments, especially in the weeks following Faye's passing, but Atreus was not a child. Had he been a child, chances were his relationship with his father would have been a work in progress.

It still was, but they were getting there.

Atreus arrived at the Station a good few minutes before the Bullhead was scheduled to arrive. Some people from the isle and outside the town were also present, hailing from other settlements. Neighbors, strangers and familiar faces, the whole lot of them. One face in particular surprised Atreus, for waiting there amid the small gathering of people was his father.

He saw his son arrive shortly after he had come into view. The pup gulped nervously, wondering whether or not Kratos had decided to keep him here. The two stared at each other, a tense silence hanging over them as he approached. As he drew closer, Atreus felt his heart hammer against his chest.

"Father?"

Somehow, Atreus' voice didn't crack from the pressure as Kratos stood over him. Though he was a budding young man, he only came up to his father's broad chest. The tips of his vulpine ears barely made it to his shoulders. A shadow loomed over him while his father stared him down, eyes unreadable.

He had no idea what was going on through his father's head until he finally made another movement. His hand moved behind his back, taking something out from the pouch hanging from his belt and holding something out for his son.

Atreus' eyes widened to the point they threatened to pop from their sockets. In Kratos' hand was a small knife, barely bigger than a silverware knife but possessing an incredibly sharper edge and a smooth leather grip.

It may have seemed like an odd gift to give someone, but to Atreus, it was so much more than that.

"This…is Mother's knife."

"She wished to give it to you, when you came of age." Kratos told him as he put a hand to his shoulder. "It is yours now."

His mouth ran dry. Gently, he took his mother's knife from his father's hand. He stared at it, once again reminded of the loss of his mother. He felt his eyes turn watery, but refused to let a tear spill. He refused to cry, not in front of strangers.

"One day, you will come back here, boy." Kratos told him sternly. "Either with your shield…or on it."

Atreus had no shield, but what his father said was not meant to be taken literally. What he was truly asking was for his son to come back to him, either alive or dead. Supposedly, it was what the people of his homeland told their loved ones when they went off to war.

He offered the pale man a small smile. "I'm not going to war, Father."

"Perhaps." Kratos acknowledged. "But you will be fighting. Both men and monster alike. Do not let your guard down. And remember to reign your temper, lest it get the better of you."

"I haven't been sick in a long time." Atreus argued. "Not since the Huntsman who came by our village unlocked my Aura while you were off hunting."

"Reign. Your. Temper."

He pouted, but shook his head. "Understood, sir." Kratos grunted. He gave Atreus' shoulder a squeeze, then walked past his son. He watched his father's back, slowly vanishing into the horizon before he heard the sound of whirling jets. He looked up and found the Bullhead descending towards the Station.

He looked at the knife in his hand before he slipped it into his jacket, making an idle note to make a small leather sheathe for it after he arrived at Beacon.

"This is it. Beacon Academy, here I come…"

* * *

"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack." –Rudyard Kipling

* * *

**NOTE**: And here we are, with a new entry in the story of Atreus. I'm glad to see that some people have begun taking an interest in this. Granted, nowhere near the level of _Something Wicked_, but still very good.

That said, I'm sure you all have many questions. For example, why is Faye here on Remnant and not in Midgard? To that, dear reader, I say unto you, "wait and see." I will not give you spoilers so easily, and not so early. As for why Atreus was born a Faunus when both of his parents are not, it was primarily because he was born on Remnant while also referencing his relationship to Fenrir.

For those who do not know Atreus' history, I will not be spoiling you. If you don't mind the spoilers, go look on youtube or his character page on the God of War Wikipedia.

For those who are worried that I will be implementing OCs outside the people of Lapis, rest assured. I will not be including any OCs. Unless, of course, you are referring to nameless mooks whose only role is to be beaten profusely and hilariously by our heroes.

For those wondering what Atreus and Kratos were saying as they were preparing to cremate Faye, they were speaking their lines from that particular scene in the game, but in Norwegian, one of the Scandinavian languages.

Small question for you all, though. Do you want chapters of _Young Wolf_ to be on the same length as the chapters in _Something Wicked_, or keep them within their shorter length?


	3. Remnant Era: Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own God of War or RWBY. Both are properties of Santa Monica Studios and RoosterTeeth respectively.**

* * *

"Even the good leaders make poor decisions. It's the best leaders that take responsibility for them." –Kratos

* * *

_Young Wolf_

* * *

Remnant Era:  
Chapter 1

* * *

**CHAPTER 2 – A Wolf in a Pack, Part 1**

Atreus had little experience with Bullheads. In fact, very rarely had he ever left the isles with his father for any sort of business that required his attention. On the rare occasions, the mayor would ask Kratos to come with him whenever he went out of town or into the Kingdoms for business trips, mostly to request some aid for supplies when resources became scarce. There was no real worry about hiring a Huntsman, since his father was almost always around and more than capable of handling the Grimm himself, and even if he wasn't present he had taught enough townsfolk how to fight and form a small band of militia.

The last time he had been on a Bullhead, Atreus was perhaps 11 or 12, barely coming up to his father's waist. He remembered seeing the sky move past and clouds fall behind as they soared, the world beneath them showing him lands that he had only seen in pictures. One trip had even let him get a glimpse of Beacon Academy, though it was far away and could remember seeing it as a castle. As the ship drew closer, though, he could tell that his estimation wasn't far off the mark.

From an aesthetic standpoint, Beacon Academy really did look like a castle. Small gray towers reaching up for the sky, the one at the center the highest of them all reminiscent of a watchtower. A single path led to the large gates leading into the school with a statue sitting in the middle of the path; a pair of huntsman standing proudly atop a rock, one brandishing his sword proudly while a Beowolf cowered beneath it. The path was also lined with lush greenery, from shrubs and bushes to trees and a large field of grass on either side, all wrapping around the entire property.

"The brochure didn't do this place justice…"

It actually made him feel a bit intimidated, especially when he saw the huge crowd of people all converging around the school entrance. Some were wearing plain clothes, the people who were here to participate in Initiation, while others were clearly students as they wore matching attire. Every last one of them was holding a weapon of some kind, ranging from typical unassuming blades and staffs to more complex ones.

Pondering whether or not he should try and mingle and see if he could maybe find out where they were going to be holding orientation, and maybe make some new friends, a rancid smell invaded his nostrils. He choked and pinched his nose.

_What _is_ that?! Urgh, it smells worse than that rotting carcass the Grimm left behind last summer!_

It didn't take him long to find the source. The cause was a blonde-haired teen wearing a black hoodie underneath pristine white armor that looked like it hadn't seen a day's worth of combat. At his hip was a sword and a white strip of folded metal, perhaps a shield. He had seen something similar once before. The poor guy was green in the face and currently dumping the contents of his stomach into a trash can.

Bile was spewing out from his mouth and into the trashcan like a waterfall. His face was pale and his eyes were bloodshot, skin caked in a thin sheet of sweat.

"Um…" Atreus approached the ill teen. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, uh…" the blonde smiled shakily at him, body trembling before his stomach made a god-awful sound that resembled the roar of an angry Ursa. "H-hold that thought. Urk!"

Another round of vomiting began. Atreus looked on in pity. _This can't possibly be healthy. Is he sick?_

"Is something wrong?"

Atreus turned his head and found a fellow redhead approaching alongside a woman with bundled-up blonde hair, who recognized during the trip as Glynda Goodwitch, one of the professors here. "Oh, perfect timing! I know this is sudden, but do you think you could help get this guy to the nurse's office? He's not looking too hot."

"I-I'm fine…!" the blonde slurred. "Just…just give me a few…urgh…"

Glynda frowned heavily in concern. "With all due respect, young man, you most certainly _do not_ look fine. Miss Nikos, I'm sorry to have to ask this, but could you please help me escort this gentleman to the infirmary?"

"It's fine." the girl smiled as she went around Atreus and over to the sickly blonde. "My goodness, you're pale and sweaty! Are you certain you aren't sick?"

"W-well…" the teen groaned. "I get motion sickness easily, but…ugh, never this bad. A-actually, I've been feeling queasy since I woke up this morning." His stomach let out another disturbing growl. He paled. "Oh no, not again…"

"Quickly now, before he blows chunks all over himself." Glynda advised as she led the two away. Atreus watched them go and winced, seeing the guy nearly stumble and practically doing his best to keep himself from spilling his guts.

_I wonder what the heck he ate to give him stomach problems that bad… On second thought, never mind, I don't think I wanna know._

Some things were left better off unknown. His good deed done for the day, Atreus walked away from the landing pad and on to the path leading up to Beacon Academy. It shouldn't be too hard to find where Orientation was taking place, so long as he had his brochure on him.

Still, he was serious about there being so many people. By now, newcomers had already started to mingle with the actual students. Some looked like they already knew the students, perhaps friends who had reunited or something.

_Now that I think about it, I'm pretty much the only guy from the isles coming to Beacon_. Atreus sighed. _That's kind of depressing._

Just as he thought whether or not he would make any friends here-

_**Boom!**_

-an earth-shaking explosion rocked the ground. Atreus and several others stopped mid-step, seeing a small cloud of black smoke up ahead.

"…that can't be good."

* * *

Ruby was having a really bad day.

It started out good. Woke up early in the morning, did the daily ritual of eating breakfast, playing with Zwei, brushing her teeth then got dressed, made sure Crescent Rose was oiled and maintained and ready for a brawl at a moment's notice, then headed off for the station. Her dad and she both decided to keep her enrollment in Beacon a secret from Yang until the blonde saw her.

That was when the good times ended. Yang being her usual self, glomping her excitedly and thinking she was special, which she was not by the way, then bragging about it to anyone who was willing to listen. Ruby was mortified by that, namely because she was no idiot. It was one thing for someone to graduate from a Combat School a year early, but skipping two-whole grade levels? That was rare, not to mention a good way to paint a target on your back. Now, everyone was going to think she got a recommendation because of luck, something illegal or something in between.

It got worse when Yang left her for a group of friends. She was such a traitor! Not to mention she left her to deal with a girl who was very ticked off. Granted, it was her fault for falling into her luggage carrier, but did she have to keep ranting on and on while waving around a Dust vial? It didn't get any better, either, especially once her allergies started to act up.

Ruby had a bizarre condition. Namely, a Dust Allergy. It wasn't common, but it wasn't very rare, either. According to some studies, only four in ten people develop a Dust Allergy. Typically, the symptoms varied, with Ruby being lucky in that she only had a severe sneezing reaction. That, unfortunately, led to problems whenever she had to apply Dust to the casings of Crescent Rose's ammunition or work with the stuff in class. Crystal Dust was fine; it was the stuff in powder form that set the allergy off.

Unfortunately for the both of them, the Dust vial's cork was loosened enough to let out a small amount to tickle her nose. That was all she wrote before Ruby let out a sneeze.

That said, who knew snot could trigger such a violent reaction? Ruby didn't intend to cause an explosion of fire, electricity and ice, but she did have to admit, she was curious. That curiosity only lasted for a few seconds before she remembered that she had caused the explosion and did so right in front of the angry white-themed girl in front of her. The smoke cleared to reveal her covered in soot.

She did _not_ look happy.

"I-I'm sorry?" Ruby offered weakly.

"You complete dunce!" the woman screeched, causing her to wince. "Ugh, this is _exactly_ what I was talking about! What on earth is a child like you doing here?! We're studying to be Huntresses! Warriors! This is no place for children!"

"H-hey, I said I was sorry!" Ruby defended. "W-who are you supposed to be, anyway? Some kind of princess?"

"Heiress, actually." Ruby turned her head. Off to the side, holding the now empty Dust vial responsible for her violent reaction, was a girl with black hair and gold eyes, a rather cute-looking bow on top of her head. "Weiss Schnee. Second daughter of Jacques Schnee, and heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, one of the leading energy producers in the world."

The white-haired girl, Weiss, smiled smugly. "Finally, some recognition!"

"Also known for its shady business practices and questionable labor laws."

Ruby had to admit, there was some satisfaction in watching Weiss' smug look faded in seconds before devolving into infuriated embarrassment, watching her stomp up to the unknown girl, snatch the empty vial in her hand while glaring at her in contempt, then stomping off. "I promise I'll make it up to you!" Ruby called at her, but received no reply. Even though they got off on the wrong foot, she didn't necessarily hate the girl. Beacon was supposed to be a fresh start for her, and she did not want to make any enemies on the first day alone.

Watching Weiss retreat until she vanished into the campus' main building, Ruby turned her attention to the black-haired girl, wanting to thank her for her intervention and maaaybe ask about her weapon, but found that she was gone and nowhere to be seen. Was she a ninja or something?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Ruby saw a copper-haired boy approach with worry, taking note of the utterly adorable set of dog ears atop his head that she was oh so tempted to rub her fingers on. Gods she missed Zwei! "I saw smoke coming from here and-"

"It was my fault." Ruby said immediately. "I, uh, kind of fumbled with some Dust, I sneezed and-"

"Let me guess, Dust allergy?"

Her eyes widened. "You too?!"

The boy nodded with a sigh. "Yeah. I break out in hives whenever I touch the stuff. Father hasn't allowed me to touch any since unless I was being watched and had some leather gloves on." He gave her a curious look. "Are you…going to get up?"

Ruby blinked, then realized she was still sitting on the floor all this time. Blushing, she quickly shot up to her feet. She realized that this was a good opportunity to try and make a new friend. While she wasn't entirely sold on the idea, what with Yang being here and all, there was no harm in trying, right? Besides, how hard could it be? Yang always made it look so easy!

"I'm Ruby!" She held out her hand. "And you are?"

"Atreus." He took her hand into his. _Oh, wow. They're so rough!_

Phase one, introductions. Complete!

…crud. What came after introductions? Did they exchange contact info now? Wait, no, that sounded way too up front and casual. She was nowhere near that bold! Darn it, where was Yang when you needed her?!

* * *

Meeting Ruby had been interesting, all things considered. She reminded him of the kids back home at Lapis, nervous but at the same time very excitable. The look on her face told him that she was really nervous, not that he blamed her. Beacon was huge, there were a lot of people, and unless he was mistaken, she looked a little younger than everybody else.

He had done his best to try and make her more comfortable, such as showing her where the opening ceremony was going to take place. Along the way, the two talked a bit about their personal lives. Like him, Ruby grew up on the isles, though whereas Lapis was located closer to Atlas she grew up near Vale in a small little community called Patch. Unlike Lapis, which was home to the rare and dangerous Albino Grimm, hers had more mundane monsters roaming about, including Ursa and Beowolves. She lived with her sister and father, and studied at a Combat School called Signal, where she learned how to fight, mostly underneath her uncle.

That conversation also led to her showing off her weapon. Atreus had to admit, he was interested seeing her in action with it. The weapon, a scythe that also doubled as a sniper rifle, looked complicated and hard to use. Not to mention it was bigger than herself when unfurled. She looked so skinny, too!

He didn't show her his weapon, mainly because of the advice his father gave him. Beacon was another ball game, and some people weren't going to play nice. Not everyone was going to be accepted into Beacon's combat studies, so naturally this meant the other initiates were going to be forced to compete against each other. Some would go on to study here at Beacon Academy, and the rest would leave for home in disgrace. Ruby seemed genuinely nice, but Atreus kept his secrets to himself.

Maybe after everything was over, though, he could show her. He would definitely love to have her as a friend. Hey, who knows? Maybe she would be his first friend here at Beacon.

After they arrived at the auditorium and split up, Atreus searched for an empty spot. He eventually found one and settled in, patiently waiting for the speech to begin. As he waited, he took a quick glance around the room and evaluated his competition. As he expected, almost everyone had some kind of weapon on their person, though a few appeared to share similar thoughts with Atreus and purposely kept their weapons in a "sheathed" state or out of view from everyone else. Some looked average, others looked like they had spent their whole lives for this moment.

"This is a lot of people." Atreus muttered to himself. "Wonder who many will be going home after Initiation is over?"

"Probably less than half of what you see."

_Whoops. I said that out loud, didn't I?_

Atreus looked next to him and found a girl with black hair and gold eyes next to him, a book in her hands. At the back of her waist was her weapon, a blade attached to what looked like the barrel of a gun.

"And probably even less will be training as huntsmen and huntresses. The rest will be left to the general studies."

"I guess…?"

Realizing he hadn't expected to receive an answer to his question, the girl shrugged and went back to her book. Her interest didn't last for every long, though, as she noticed his ears.

"…wolf or dog?"

Atreus looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude," she raised her hands in defense. "I was curious. I usually can't tell the difference between wolf and dog Faunus."

"For what it's worth, neither can my dad." Atreus smiled wryly. "I'm a wolf Faunus. Name's Atreus. And you are…?"

"Blake."

Atreus noted that she seemed more interested and casual with him now, compared to her earlier disinterest. Maybe she just felt more comfortable around Faunus? She didn't have any extra features that he could see, but you could never tell. For all he knew, she kept her features hidden. Some Faunus did, not wanting to attract trouble because of the discrimination Faunus received from humans. Atreus himself had experienced it a few times, hearing the slurs and name-calling, but he never experienced the physical violence.

Some brave fools that did try usually found themselves being stared down by his father, hand firmly resting on his ax. All it took was one look, and they'd be sent running to the hills.

To be fair, his father could be downright terrifying when he wanted to be.

Eventually, the sound of a man clearing his throat caught everyone's attention. They turned their eyes to the podium and saw to people, one everyone recognized as Glynda Goodwitch, who appeared before them while aboard the bullhead as part of a projection and welcoming them to Beacon Academy. The one standing in front of the microphone was a man, dressed in a dark suit with fading gray hair with cane in hand.

Atreus knew who he was immediately by the pictures of the pamphlet alone.

The Headmaster of Beacon Academy.

"I will keep this brief," Ozpin began slowly, eyes scanning the crowd of people before him. "You have traveled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people."

Atreus glanced at the people around him and Blake. Some preened at what they thought was praise, glancing at each other with smiles and grins all around. Others were more arrogant and haughty like they thought Ozpin was talking about them specifically. The odd few looked on with disinterest and looked more bored than anything, just waiting for the headmaster to be done so they could move on with their lives.

"But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction."

The looks faded, replaced by anger and confusion. Whispers slowly began to fill the auditorium while Atreus continued to listen.

"You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step."

Having finished, the man turned on his heel and left the students behind while Glynda Goodwitch took over. Atreus mulled over the meaning behind his words and took another look around the auditorium, taking in the appearance and mannerisms of his fellow initiates.

"Father would have approved."

Blake gave him an odd look.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the possible students of Beacon Academy, Ozpin had kept his eyes on one person in particular throughout his speech. Glynda had noticed the stare when he had finished delivering his speech, but chose not to remain quiet. She told the students where they would retire for the evening, leave them to establish bonds and associate themselves with others, then left with her superior.

"It seems this year will be a curious one." Glynda remarked as they walked.

Ozpin casted a glance. "What makes you say that?"

"Have you seen the initiates this year? Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. Pyrrha Nikos, alumnus of Sanctum and regional tournament champion several times over. And lastly, Blake Belladonna, daughter of the founder of the White Fang…" She paused briefly, then aimed a questioning look. "…and former terrorist. On the subject of Miss Belladonna, why did you send her an invitation?"

"Everyone deserves a fair chance, Glynda. She's just one of those misguided youths who realized what kind of path she was walking, and wants to steer clear of it." Ozpin frowned. "That said, I do wish she chose to assume an alias. It won't take long for people to realize her surname, especially Miss Schnee. I don't need to tell you what sort of grief that family has had over the years because of the SDC's treatment of its workers."

No, he did not. While she was certain that Jacques Schnee was not entirely responsible for the treatment of his Faunus employees, as the blame could not be solely directed at the man who ran the show, he was still one of the many cogs that made up the harsh conditions and treatments they had to undergo. That and the White Fang's repeated attacks against the Schnee Family in particular more than contributed to the apparent hostility. She didn't blame the man for hating the White Fang as passionately as he did, but that was no reason to take his anger out on his employees.

Glynda could already see herself at her desk, reprimanding the two most noteworthy initiates who may become her students if all went well. Why the Chieftan of Menagerie's daughter had chosen to go by her actual name instead of a fake one, she could not understand. It was as if she was begging for trouble. That bow atop her head, assuming it was to help hide her Faunus traits, would not do much if people knew who her parents were. Claiming they adopted her would not help her, either. People would note the similarities and figure out who she was.

_Then again, who would believe the daughter of the White Fang's founder would be here at Beacon Academy of all places?_

Hiding in plain sight, she supposed. However, how long would that illusion last?

"On the subject of initiates…" Glynda opened up her Scroll and showed the screen to the Headmaster. "Regarding Jaune Arc-"

Ozpin stopped her with a raised hand. "I've already been made aware. Peach informed me about his condition. Poor man has the stomach bug, and his motion sickness did not help matters. As much as I hate wasting the potential of the youth, and unless he somehow miraculously gets better by tomorrow morning, please pull Mr. Arc from the roster."

"Of course." Glynda pulled up a different screen from her Scroll, showing her pictures of the initiatives. She tapped Jaune's picture, then dragged it down to the bottom, where it promptly vanished. "By the way, I've noticed you were giving one of the children quite the look. Another personal interest, I assume?"

It was no secret among the staff that Ozpin tended to give special treatment to people who caught his eye. Ruby Rose was one such individual, who in spite of Glynda's own protests now had the chance to participate in Initiation two years early. While she was aware that the girl was special, she believed that she was not quite ready for what Beacon had to offer. Simply put, Ruby just was not ready yet. There was also the educational gap to consider. In combat, she was excellent as one might suspect, but academically speaking she often hit roadblocks. She was not dumb, but she had a harder time understanding certain concepts and mathematical equations and whatnot. One year might be doable, but skipping ahead two whole grade levels was going to make adjusting to Beacon very difficult.

Despite her insistence, Ozpin allowed the girl a chance anyway. And if she was anything like Summer Rose, she was going to be a student here at Beacon Academy. Sometimes, Glynda wondered just went through that man's mind some days, but she would rarely ever question his judgment, no matter how much she wanted.

As for the person she saw in the crowd, she would admit the boy looked capable, physically speaking. Granted, she imagined he would be facing difficulties from his peers because of his Faunus heritage, but she had an inkling feeling that he would do well here.

Ozpin gave her one of his mysterious smiles, the ones she hated the most because it was one of those signs that he knew something, but wouldn't tell her anything until she learned about it for herself. "Oh no, nothing of the sort, though I will admit that one has my particular interest, albeit for reasons different from Miss Rose."

Glynda raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She imagined that she would soon find out once Initiation began. Still, curiosity roused, she took a quick peek at his file.

The copper-haired Faunus, Atreus, grew up in a village called Lapis, located on an isle not too far from Solitas. He was self-taught and did not attend any Combat Schools. His scores in the practical exam were rather incredible, easily the highest scoring out of everyone who took it. She did take notice of the personal notes written by the examiners, which claimed that the boy had rarely activated his Aura. That was a little concerning to her, given what Beacon Academy would have its students face in the future.

As for his family, there was little to no information about them. All that was told was that his father worked with the local militia and his mother was apparently an unsanctioned Huntress, but that was it. No further information, which raised a few alarm bells. Glynda felt that had James saw this he would have been paranoid and conducted an in-depth investigation about his private life.

Nothing that she read gave any indication about what made this boy so special. Perhaps it was just something Ozpin himself saw, whatever it was.

Glynda sighed to herself and shook her head. What was it with her boss and his secrecy?

* * *

Night had arrived and the initiates had gathered in the ballroom as instructed. By now, the initiates had all changed into their nightclothes. Many had already formed into small clusters, mostly on the northern end of the room, already taking the initiative to learn about their future classmates, teammates, rivals, etc.

Atreus found himself sitting off to the side, away from the clusters while looking around the room. It seemed like almost everyone had found people that wanted to associate themselves with or were in the process of becoming fast friends, whereas he was just hanging back, mostly because he really had no idea what to do.

That and he caught the not-so-subtle glares a few people were throwing him. Especially the guy with the crew cut. Actually, he had been glaring at him for what felt like a good half hour, though Atreus was certain he had done nothing to offend him. Maybe he was just one of those people who disliked him simply because he was a Faunus.

Atreus sighed and put himself more comfortably against the wall before taking out his journal. A gift from the mayor when he turned seven, just before his father began to teach him how to fight to protect himself after the Huntsman had arrived at Lapis and took pity on the poor boy, unlocking his Aura and all. Stories that his mother had told him, notes about his father's fighting style and how he could adapt to said style, schematics and blueprints of his weapon when it was still just a twinkle in his eye; everything that ever passed through his ears or danced in his mind was put to the paper with a pen.

Speaking of weapons, before they arrived at the ballroom the teachers asked them to put away their belongings in a locker. Each student received an electronic passcode sent directly to their Scrolls, so the only people who could open the lockers would be the owner of that passcode. This was so that no one else could open the other person's locker and take their belongings, especially their weapon. It certainly eased his worries, especially considering the amount of blood, sweat and tears he poured with the blacksmith to make _Vulpine Recluse_ a reality.

For the record, the mayor's daughter came up with the name. He had no part in the naming, much to his chagrin for not having a good naming sense. Every suggestion was shot down either because it sounded childish, or because his father gave him this really weird look that suggested even he had no idea what to make of it.

Seriously, how was it that a twelve-year-old girl had better naming sense than a teenager?!

Atreus opened his notebook to the last page filled out, written yesterday morning. He had been so excited about Beacon that he hardly slept last night. After all, his dream was slowly coming within reach. Soon enough, he would be able to catch up to his mother.

"_So, here I am at Beacon Academy. It is…a lot bigger than what I was expecting. There are so many people here too. Honestly, it made me realize just how small Lapis may have been when compared to the rest of the outside world. I do not know if I will make any friends here, but I am really hoping I do. I did meet one girl who seemed to like me, Ruby I think her name was. Maybe when Initiation is over, and she was accepted, we can talk. That is, assuming I am accepted. I have no idea what Initiation will be like or what we will be doing. All I do know is that students are going to put into a group of four people. If I make the cut, I hope I will put on a team that treats me fairly. To be honest, I do not know what to do if someone hates me just because of my ears. Maybe I could try doing what father does and give them that glare?"_

Atreus paused in his writing, putting the pen to his lips. Thinking about the positives, maybe dealing with racism when his father was not present would be good for him. Kratos always did stress the importance that there would come a time when he must deal with problems by himself, even if one self could not resolve some problems. He could handle the slurs and harsh words, but physical prejudice was something he had yet to actually experience. He felt he could defend himself if it ever came to that, though. He wasn't weak.

He shrugged and put the pen back on the paper, only to stop when he saw someone approaching. He looked up and saw Pyrrha Nikos, now clad in baggy red gym clothes of all things. She didn't seem as though she was approaching him specifically, instead moving towards what she thought was a suitable place for her to lie down and rest. He was not the only person to notice her presence either; several other initiatives took notice of the girl praised far and wide in Mistral for being undefeated and either broke out into excited, hushed whispers or scooted slightly closer to her.

"Hello," Pyrrha greeted him amicably. "Is this spot taken?"

Atreus shook his head. "No, you're good." Pyrrha smiled and thanked him, plopping herself down on the open space next to him and set her sleeping bag down at her feet. The girl sighed in relief and slumped on the spot, no doubt happy that she finally found someplace to sleep in a cramped space as this. "I take it all the other good spots are taken?"

"There's that, but I was looking for someplace close to the back of the room. There's less people around here," Pyrrha answers him and stares inquisitively. "Pardon, but have we met before?"

"Earlier today. You were helping Professor Goodwitch get the guy who was puking to the infirmary." Pyrrha's eyes lit with recognition, now recognizing the wolf Faunus. "Speaking of, how's he doing?"

"I have no idea. I dropped him off at the infirmary and stayed long enough to see him get settled in. I did hear from Professor Goodwitch that he'll be pulled from Initiation if he doesn't get better by tomorrow." Atreus winced and recalled how sick the blonde seemed when they disembarked the Bullhead. There was no way he was going to recover quickly enough to make it to Initiation tomorrow. Pyrrha shared his thoughts. "It's a shame. He kept talking about how he couldn't afford to miss it."

"Well, who knows? Maybe he'll be put in General Studies?" Atreus offered weakly. Pyrrha nodded, but was still pitying the 'vomit boy' for the hand he had been dealt.

A brief period of silence fell between them. Atreus was about to continue writing his journal before Pyrrha spoke up again.

"I'm sorry," she apologized sheepishly as she held out a hand. "I never introduced myself. I'm Pyrrha."

Atreus smiled back and grasped her hand, feeling the calluses on her skin of her palm. Proof that she wielded her weapon and fought with it for a long time, perhaps as long as he had been hunting the white demons that plagued the isles. "Atreus. Nice to meet you, Pyrrha."

* * *

The sun was already in the sky by the time Atreus stirred, neck stiff. At some point without him realizing it, he had fallen asleep with his head on his shoulder, pen dangling loosely from his fingers and his journal lying abandoned on his lap.

_When did I fall asleep?_

Rubbing his eyes and yawning Atreus stowed his journal and pen away in his bag before standing up, stretching his limbs and ridding himself of the annoying cricks and stiffness in his joints. He rolled his neck and shoulders and sighed with relief, then looked about the room. Most of the students were still asleep while others were early risers, already preparing their things and heading to the cafeteria to feed their bellies. At the thought of food, his stomach gurgled and demanded substenance.

Meat sounded wonderful, now that he thought about it, though he doubted Beacon was serving steaks or lamb chops.

He gathered his belongings and made his way to the cafeteria. It was not hard to find by trailing some of the initiates already on their way there. It was not as big as the ballroom, but it was still incredibly large and was easily the length of a football field. Several rows of tables and benches were neatly lined up into three columns that ran from the entrance at the end of the room all the way to the counter where the lunch ladies were taking orders. The initiates barely took up any space at all. If anything, they weren't taking up enough of the seats available. Another indicator of how many people were attending Beacon.

Atreus made his way to the counter to look at the menu and decide where to go from there, only to halt and stare.

"What the…"

He rubbed his eyes and blinked, staring at the sheer absurdity that looked back at him in defiance. The sight in front of him looked normal enough: two initiates, one a boy with a girlish face and the other a girl with a wide grin plastered on her face were eating breakfast comprised of pancakes, milk, cereal and juice.

What was _not_ normal was the skyscraper-sized tower of pancakes lathered and doused in maple syrup that reached up towards the absurdly high ceiling. Had he not known any better, Atreus swore the tower of pancakes poked a hole through the ceiling and was reaching towards the sky.

"Did you want some?" the grinning girl asked him suddenly, snapping him out of it. She took a chunk of the tower with her fork and offered him a piece. "Here!"

"…huh?" was all Atreus could say. He was at a total loss.

The girlish boy sighed. "The tower isn't as long as it looks."

Wait, what? What was that supposed to mean?

Were all people outside the isles this weird?

* * *

Insanity aside, Atreus took the two up on their offer and ate with them. It was free food, after all, and he'd be a fool to fight on an empty stomach. On the plus side, he did become acquainted with the two. The pancake girl, Nora Valkyrie, was awfully chatty and easily excitable, and maybe a little bloodthirsty seeing how pumped she was to, in her words, "break some legs." By contrast, Lie Ren was soft-spoken and as cool as a river stream.

The three exchanged some pleasantries, Ren even asking him about his thoughts on how initiation would go before they relocated to the locker room, where they would retrieve their weapons and wait for further instruction.

"Move it, animal!"

A vulgar brown-haired man in full-plated armor rudely shoved Atreus to the side. The Faunus frowned and glared at the man's fleeing back before shaking his head. He could deal with problems like this another time. Instead of letting obvious racism get to him and affect his performance, he made his way over to the locker and input the code. To his relief, _Vulpine Recluse_ was untouched and was exactly as he left it the other day. He really didn't want it to be stolen.

Retrieving his bow from the locker, he fashioned it to his back and double-checked his equipment. The rotors looked like they were in good condition, but just to be on the safe side, he gave them a small test. Briefly removing the bow and switching it to its blade form, Atreus saw the chains fall and slip into the rotors, then proceeded to extend and shorten the chain. The rotors clicked and whirled, shortening and extending the length of the chains as it was meant to do. He smiled to himself and switched the weapon back into its long-raged mode, once more returning it to his back.

"For the last time, Yang, I don't-oh, Atreus! Hey, over here!"

The copper-haired boy perked his ears and looked over his shoulder. An excited looking Ruby Rose was waving at him. She was in the company of a taller, older woman with long blonde hair, yellow gauntlets wrapped around her wrists with shells loaded in the gaps.

"Hey," Atreus greeted back amicably as he walked over to her. "Long time no see."

"Ooh, is that your weapon?" Ruby's eyes immediately zeroed in on _Vulpine Recluse_. He swore he saw her silver irises glitter with stars. "What's it's name? What can it do?"

"Down girl," the blonde-haired woman tapped Ruby on the head while smiling in exasperation. "Sorry 'bout Ruby. In case you didn't notice, she gets really excited whenever she sees somebody's weapon."

"I noticed," Atreus remarked dryly before extending his hand. "I'm Atreus. You?"

"Yang Xiao-Long, Ruby's older and cooler sister," the blonde shook his head while grinning. "And her only sister. And before you ask, we're half-sisters. Same dad, different moms."

Atreus let out an 'ah' of understanding and nodded. He noted how firm her handshake was and the roughness of her knuckles. The skin looked as though it had repeatedly been torn and ripped open, or at the very least was wearing thin. She must have practiced a great deal of hand-to-hand combat.

Wouldn't compare to her father, though. He would be impressed if she could knock out a Beowolf in a punch.

"So, I hear you helped out my kid sis when she exploded?"

Ruby's cheeks almost immediately turned cherry red and whined. "Yaaang, why'd you bring that up?! And it wasn't even my fault!"

"I didn't do much," Atreus shook his head. "I just helped her up and showed her to the auditorium. That's it."

"Still, I appreciate it." Yang told him. "Anyway, how do you think Initiation's gonna play out? Everyone's talking about how the teams are going to be set up."

"We'll know once Initiation starts."

That said, Atreus was worried about how the team selection would go. From what he heard, everyone would be placed on a team of four. There was no mention or word of how the selection process would go, though he assumed it would likely be done during or after Initiation was complete. Perhaps team placement would be based on their performance.

_I'm starting to get nervous,_ Atreus bit his lower lip. _What if I get placed on a team that doesn't like me? Or has problems with Faunus?_

"Attention, all initiate applicants." Glynda Goodwitch's voice chimed through the speakers. Immediately everyone in the locker room went still and ceased their chatter to listen. "Initiation will begin in ten minutes. Will all applicants report to Beacon Cliff? I repeat, all applicants, report to Beacon Cliff immediately."

The announcement ended shortly after. Everyone slowly began to exit the locker room and head to the location Glynda specified. "Guess it's time," Yang noted. Ruby smiled at Atreus and waved as she left, the older sibling following close behind her. "See ya around, Atreus! Hey, who knows? Maybe we'll be on the same team together?"

Atreus shrugged. He triple-checked his equipment one last time before going after the two.

That said, he couldn't help but feel a little anxious. Why did it feel like something was going to happen…?

* * *

**NOTE**: Ugh, finally done. I'm starting to see why people don't like rehashing Initiation. It's an utter slough to get through, not to mention it does little other than introduces characters we already know.

I'll probably skim over some parts of what remains of Initiation and focus mainly on Atreus meeting his partner and them battling their way through the Emerald Forest.

Quick thing to say about Jaune. He is being replaced as the leader of his team, but he will not be removed from the story. I do have plans regarding him, mainly plans that involve him being beaten into the ground, screaming at Atreus and calling him a devil for making him undergo hell.

Then again, it's his own damn fault for asking Atreus, the kid who was raised and trained by KRATOS, to train his scrawny ass.

Regarding "Something Wicked This Way Comes," I will say this as many times as I need to before you understand. It will be updated when it is updated.


End file.
